The Other Boy with the Bread
by TyedyeLongshadow
Summary: "He has two older brothers, I know, I've seen them in the bakery, but one is probably too old to volunteer and the other won't"  What if Peeta's older brother did volunteer for him?  This is the Hunger Games with the other boy with the bread.
1. Chapter 1

For a while I'd been toying with the idea of writing a fic about Peeta's brother (I've named him Farina, you'll see why later) replacing him in the games. I came up with this concept a while back, started penning it, but ultimately scrapped it because didn't like where it was going. Recently, ideas to fix it just kept creeping up on me and now I've finally sat down to get these plot bunnies out of my head.

* * *

><p>"Farina, Farina." My dad calls from downstairs, "Farina, it's nearly 11, you need to get ready."<p>

I groan and slowly rise from under the covers. I rarely get to sleep in, and when I do I milk it in for all it's worth. Monday through Saturday I get up at 3 AM to start baking bread. Sundays the bakery opens later, so I get to sleep in a whopping two extra hours. The only time I'm up after 5 is if I'm sick, or it's reaping day.

"Farina, are you up yet?"

"Yes Dad."

Today, obviously, is reaping day. I'm not sick, though I sort of wish I was, then I would get to stay home. I hate the reapings. Hate them. Not because I was facing a shot at certain death, but getting all dressed up. I'm a baker; I'm always covered in flour. It gets in my hair, on my clothes, under my nails, and embedded in my skin. I love it. I never try to get myself completely clean, just clean enough that I don't smell. Reaping days I have to wash all the four away and trade in my baking clothes for my button down shirt and tie. The complete lack of dough and flour on my body is a strange, foreign feeling. As unmanly as it sounds, I feel almost naked without my apron.

"Fare, hurry up." Peeta shouts from outside the bathroom, "You're using up all the hot water."

"Not my fault you didn't start your bath earlier Peety."

Dad said my name means flour in some ancient language nobody speaks anymore. My mom thought she was being clever and creative when she gave her boys baking names. My older brother and younger brother are both named for types of bread, but purposely spelling them slightly off so people wouldn't think the bakers named their children after bread. And I'm named for flour. My Mom has also dropped hints that she would have liked a daughter. Besides saying every other day "I wish we had a girl around the bakery." my brothers and I have girly names. My older brother Brioshe got off easy, but Peeta? Farina? Really Mom?

"Farina, why aren't you dressed yet"

"Mom's ironing my shirt."

"We leave in 15 minutes. Why didn't you fold your shirts rather than shoving them into your drawers?"

"Shut up Brioshe! I know we leave soon, and I'm sorry I don't fold my clothes exactly like you do."

"We're going to be late because of you."

"No we're not, you say that every year. We have never once been late to a reaping."

I hate Brioshe, and he hates me too. It's a mutual hatred. He's a stuck up, smartass that thinks he's so great because he's 3 years older and 30 IQ points higher than me. He's neat, orderly, 15 minutes early to everything, and I am a fashionably late slob. He loves reading fancy Capitol books, managing the finances of the bakery, and insulting jocks. I'm a jock, captain of the wrestling team and shot put champion 3 years running. I've used some of my signature wrestling moves on both my brothers before. Brioshe because I hate him, Peeta because he's on the wrestling team. He's not half bad either, second only to me. I've always thought of Peeta and me as close. I like him a whole hell of a lot more than Brioshe, but he can be such a pansy at times. He spends way too much effort into decorating cakes (probably why he's Dad's favorite) and he's had a crush on a girl he's never talked to for almost ten years. I can see him now, 40 years old, alone, and still secretly crushing on that girl who's married with a family, and has no idea he likes her. Pathetic, just pathetic.

"Name please."

"Mellark, Farina."

"Thank you. Now please stand with your appropriate age group, the reaping will begin in a few minutes."

We get to the reapings on time, with more than a few minutes to spare (just like I said we would, but of course, Brioshe still complains about almost being late.) Mom, Dad, and Brioshe stand on the outsides, with the others that aren't eligible to be reaped, and Peeta and I go with our age groups.

"Fare, I really need to talk to you." I sigh and turn to face Lise Arricksen, my ex. We'd been going out for two years until she decided to cheat on me with some scum from the seam. It's been over for two months and 18 days. I've moved on, she hasn't. She's been trying to win me back ever since we split, no matter how many times I say I don't want her, she keeps coming back.

"And I really don't care."

"Fare, please, it's important."

"Funny, I still don't care." I hope her important news is that she's being sent away to District 2, or somewhere else far away. The farther away she is from me, the better. What I wouldn't do for her to be out of my life.

"What did Lise want?" my friend Eames asks me.

"Me to take her back. Same as usual."

"God, when is she going to get over herself?"

"Hopefully soon. This 'please take me back' routine got annoying 2 months ago."

The mayor starts to talk; it's the same thing every year, how Panem came to be and yada yada yada. I've heard the same thing every year. I could probably recite the thing myself if the mayor ever got sick. It never changes, except it somehow manages to get more boring every time I hear it.

"Is this ever gonna end?" I mutter to Eames.

"Just this one last time Fare, after this reaping, we'll be free."

"Yeah, and then we get to hear it from the sides, still bored out of our skulls."

"At least on the sides it's easier to sneak food in, and we don't have to get dressed up. Look at this tie my Mom made me wear. I look more ridiculous than the Capitol escort." Eames' mother is obsessed with the latest Capitol fashions, apparently, neon green ties are in.

"It is pretty, flamboyant, but it's got nothing on pink hair. Plus, she probably thinks her hair looks good, you and I know different."

"Good point." They then bring out that lady from the Capitol. I can never remember her name (Arfey or something like that.) It's probably a ridiculous Capitol name to match her ridiculous Capitol accent and ridiculous pink, Capitol hair.

"Ladies first," she says and sticks her hand into the reaping ball, "Primrose Everdeen." I don't recognize the name, but I know who she is when I see her face. I've seen her around the bakery, eyeing the cakes on display. I kinda feel bad for her; she must be only, like, 12. It always sucks to see 12 year olds get reaped, especially really tiny 12 year olds.

"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute." I wonder who's stupid enough to volunteer. Nobody ever volunteers in District 12 because nobody from District 12 ever wins. Seriously, we haven't had a winner in nearly 25 years. The one winner we do have Haymitch Abernathy, is always drunk, or hung-over. I know the little girl's hopeless, but still I'd rather it be her than me.

"Crazy chick." Eames mutters to me we snicker quietly as they argue about volunteer protocol.

"What's your name?" the Capitol woman asks.

"Katniss Everdeen." Now that name I know. I've never met her personally, I've seen her around once or twice (she's the one that shoots the squirrels so well, my Dad says) but I hear about her all the time from Peeta. His pathetic crush on her irritates me to no end. I don't understand what he sees in her. She's not pretty, she doesn't seem very friendly, and most importantly, she's never said a word to him. I've told him time and time again that he really, really, needs to get over her. He can do so much better than some seam girl who sneaks around with that douchebag Hawthorne.

"And now for the boys," she reaches in, "Peeta Mellark."

Shit. My brother, my little brother. Did I hear her right? There are thousands of little slips in that ball, there's no way she could have said Peeta Mellark.

"Are you alright?" my friend Piccard asks, "You look pale."

"No, I don't think I'm ok." This seriously can't be happening. I'm not supposed to know the people who get reaped, let alone be close to them. We're supposed to go home and eat cake, we only get to eat cake on reaping day. We're supposed to make fun of the Capitol citizens when we watch the recaps. I can't laugh at Arfey the escort when Peeta's the one standing next to her.

Peeta marches up to the stage, trying his hardest to put on a brave face. It's the same face he has when mom yells at him, I've seen it before. He keeps it on while she's looking, but once he's alone he starts to lose it.

"Any volunteers, anyone?" That stupid, pink haired, Capitol bimbo calls out with that annoying accent. Does she really expect someone to volunteer for him? I think Katniss was the first volunteer in District 12, ever. Nobody can save him now. I can't. I can't volunteer for him, but I can't just let him die. No, I can't help him, no one can help him. It's better him than me; it's better him than me. Maybe if I keep thinking it I'll start to believe it. It's better him than me. Why don't I believe it? It's better him than me. Why do I feel guilty? It's better him than me. There's nothing I can do.

"I volunteer." I don't know what possessed me to say this, but I don't regret it.

* * *

><p>The odds are not in my favor, most definitely not in my favor. But then again, have they ever? Prim was reaped, my sweet, gentle sister, Prim. I volunteered to take her place. I'm headed for certain death, and now she'll have to live without me. Her being alone with Mom is worse than the thought of me dying.<p>

Then they add insult to injury when Peeta's gets reaped. He saved me with his bread so many years ago. I owe my life to him. He gave me strength to move on, and now we will both die. Then his brother, at least I assume it's his brother, volunteers for him. I've never met him before, aside from seeing him in the bakery. I think Gale may have mentioned him once or twice; they're in the same grade.

"And what's your name?" Effie asks him. I hate how she can be so cheery after this. She's never anything but cheery. It's usually just annoying, now it seems downright disrespectful.

"Farina Mellark" I've definitely seen him around the bakery. He's always carrying around these huge sacks of flour. He looks almost exactly like Peeta, just taller, with longer, shaggier hair, and more muscle, a lot more muscle. He's been wrestling champion at our school three years running. He could probably wrestle me to the ground right now without even trying that hard. When the mayor motions us to shake hands his grip is firm, a scowl on his face. I try to make eye contact, but he doesn't look at me, he looks over me, into the crowd of people.

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><p>I definitely should not be writng this now (I have a paper on the Odyssey that I've barely started due Monday. *Groans*) Maybe now that I've finished I can stop procrastinating. Don't know if any of you read Status Updates, but this is the thing I mentioned I was thinking about startng. I have this mapped out, and if I finish it, it'll be the longest thing I've ever written. It's a daunting challenge, but I think I'm up for it. Review if you want, or don't review, that's cool too. I'll post the next chapter when I get around to it.<p>

And for anyone who cares Farina is the Latin word for flour, Brioshe is a play on Brioche (a type of French bread/pastry) and Peeta, well I hope that one's obvious.


	2. Chapter 2

I'd like to dedicate this chapter to anyone who's currently procrastinating on something. I totally should be writing an essay on Plato right now, but instead...

The POV flips around a lot in this chapter, seriously I mean it, a lot of times. Fics that flip POVs this much usually irk me, but I think (hope) I made it work. I wasn't really sure how to make this chapter work without flipping so much.

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><p>"And Prim, give Gale the milk you'd like to sell at the Hob, I don't want you going down there by yourself." I shouldn't be having this conversation with my Mom and Prim. I should be crying and hugging and telling them how much I love them, not chastising them on every single little thing they're going to need to do without me around. I wish I could just hug my mother and sister and say nothing but 'I love you' and that would be enough, but they're helpless without me. If I don't tell them, all three of us will die.<p>

"I would never go to the Hob. It's scary. And it smells kind of bad." I can't help but smile at this. I can always count on Prim to lighten up the mood.

"Stay sweet, Prim."

* * *

><p>"Where's Peeta?" With the exception of him, my entire family is here. My parents, Brioche, all my aunts, uncles, and cousins, even my crabby Grandpa Roarke came to see me. He called me a punk and hit me with his cane the last time we saw each other. I bet Mom dragged him here, he wouldn't have come otherwise.<p>

"He said he wanted to talk to you alone." My dad says softly. Dad's obviously distressed at this entire situation. He likes to express his emotions through his work, rather than his words. District 12 is going to be having a lot of excess bread. I don't mind too much that Peeta isn't here yet. If I had to choose a family member to make a separate goodbye to, Peeta would be the one I'd pick.

"Farina, you can win this, I know you can. You're so strong, Fare. You have to win because I just can't imagine my life without you." My Mom is sobbing as she says this, literally bawling her eyes out. I've never seen her this emotional before, or at least not this sad. I've seen her extremely angry, usually at Peeta, but I've never seen her cry. I always thought I was her favorite, I guess this confirms it.

"I'll try my best." I know there's no way I'm gonna win this. I'll 'try my best' by not getting blown up in the first minute. Yeah, that seems easy enough. I can't tell my mom that, it would only upset her more.

"Farley-"

"It's Farnia, Grandpa."

"Yeah, whatever. Here, take this, I'll come in handy in the arena." He digs in his pocket and pulls out a cigarette lighter. Funny, I thought Grandpa quit smoking.

"Um, thanks Grandpa, but I can't use this."

"You ungrateful little punk!" He snatches back his lighter and mumbles something about the youth being corrupted.

"Grandpa, you do know there's a rule that say I can't bring weapons into the arena?"

"Yeah, I know. I just wanted to help you out some. You need all the help you can get."

"Thank you Grandpa, I do appreciate it." I give him a somewhat awkward hug. When we break apart, I see tears in his eyes. I never knew Grandpa cared that much for me, or that he cared for me at all. "Grandpa, are you, crying?"

"No, I-I'm not crying. I just have something in my eye, that's all."

"Fare," Brioche starts, God I don't want to hear this, "I know you and I haven't ever gotten along, but I still want you to know that I'll be rooting for you. I'm sorry for everything I've ever done that got you angry or upset or-"

"Shut up, you're not sorry. You just want to apologize now because you'll probably never get the chance to again. I'm not going to listen to your fake apologies, Brioche."

"Fare, please. I really am sorry."

"Yeah, and I'm president of Panem. I won't pretend I like you just so you can clear your conscience."

"Fine then, Farina. Go and get yourself killed, I won't miss you. In fact, I'll laugh when you die."

"No you won't, you'll feel guilty that you never made up with me. I'm going to haunt you for the rest of your life. I'll be the one laughing."

"I hate you!"

"I hate you more!"

"I hope-"

"Boys, please," Dad interjects. I only realize now the presence of everyone in the room. My entire family has been watching this argument between the two of us. It's never been a secret to them that we didn't get along, but I don't think they knew it was at this extent, "Do you really want your last words to each other to be 'I hate you'?"

I glare at Brioche and slowly draw out my answer, "Yes."

* * *

><p>"Madge, it's beautiful, but I can't accept it." It's her pin, pure gold, probably worth more than everything I'm wearing right now, I'm sure it's some kind of family heirloom. And she wants me to have it? I don't understand, the pin must mean something to her, she wouldn't wear it if it didn't. Even people as rich as her don't give away pure gold pins to people they barely know. It'll probably get lost or destroyed if I take it. Will she even get it back if I die?<p>

"Please, I want you to have it Katniss."

"Well, ok then. Thanks." I district token was the farthest thing from my mind. I guess it'll be nice to have something that reminds me of home.

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><p>"Fare, you remember the time when I totally kicked your ass in the ring?" None of my friends cry. They don't hug either. Since we don't get emotional, we play 'Hey, remember when?' a stupid game we came up with years ago, where we reminisce on some of our good (and bad) times.<p>

"Eames, I was sick. It wasn't a fair fight."

"Oh come on, quit being a sore loser. You had a cold."

"It was the flu. I had a pounding headache and every bone in my body ached. I spent the next week home from school because of it. Remember that part?"

"Ok, maybe you were a bit sicker than a cold, but the main point is I totally kicked your ass."

"Yeah I guess you did, but hey, do you remember the time I kicked your ass in the ring, and then the other time I kicked your ass in the ring, and then the other time-"

"We get the point."

"Fare," Piccard starts "You better kick some serious ass in the arena, because this can't be the last time we reminisce."

"I'll try." I don't have the heart to tell them there's no way I'm coming back.

* * *

><p>"Um… hi Peeta." I wonder what he's doing visiting me, shouldn't he be seeing Farina? Aside from the bread incident 5 years ago, we've never really talked to each other.<p>

"Hi, Katniss. These are from my dad." He says quietly and hands me a package of cookies.

"Thanks."

"There's something else."

"What is it?"

"Um... I wanted to tell you something, uh, something important. Um.. before you go um.. I wanted to say that um.. I-I'm uh.. You should know that um.. I've been uh… need to tell you that I… I… I…" Does Peeta have a stammering problem? I don't think I can listen to this much longer.

"Actually there's something I want to tell you too."

"THERE IS? Err.. I mean there is?" Wow, I don't think I've ever met someone who's been so eager to hear what I have to say.

"Um, yeah. I wanted to say thanks, for the bread you gave me. Do you remember 5 years ago, you gave me bread? I never properly thanked you for it. So, thank you, for the bread."

"It was nothing." He says, then wraps his arms around me and begins to sob. It's probably one of the most, if not the most awkward things that's ever happen to me. I'm usually not comfortable with this kind of physical contact, especially with people I barely know, but I oddly enough, I don't want to push him away. The boy is probably shook up from everything that's happened today. Everyone needs a shoulder to cry on, I'd be crying now if I didn't have to face a ton of cameras. I just wish he'd picked someone else's shoulder.

"This can't be happening." He says between sobs.

"It's ok." I say softly. I rub his back, just like I do when I comfort Prim, and watch the door for the peacekeepers. They better get here soon.

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><p>Who the hell is in charge of what people come to see me? I bet its Brioche, only he would do something so cruel as let Lise come see me.<p>

"All right, what's this super important thing that you just had to tell me?"

"Farina, I wanted to tell you that, um. Well, I'm not sure how to say this, but uh.. I-"

"Goddamn it Lise, just tell me!"

"I'm pregnant!"

"Y-you're pregnant?" I manage to say before I burst out into uncontrollable laughter. The idea of Lise getting knocked up by that seam scum is hilarious. "Oh God, that's the funniest thing I've heard all day today."

"Um, I'm glad you're taking it so well."

"Yeah, what'd the seam scum do when you told him?"

"Oh," her expression darkens, "Fare, he's not the father. You are."

"What? No, no, there's absolutely no way. How can you be sure it's me?"

"Because I never had sex with my 'seam scum' boyfriend. I wanted to, God did I want to, but he wanted to wait."

"Liar! Get out! Get the fuck out Lise!"

"Farina, I'm telling the truth! I swear that you're the only person I've ever slept with and you're the only person who could be the father."

"Well Lise, maybe if you hadn't lied to me before I'd believe you. But since you're a cheater and a liar and a slut, I just want you to get the fuck out!"

* * *

><p>"Thank you so much for everything Gale. I have no idea what my family would do without you."<p>

"It's not a problem, you know I see your family as practically an extention my own. We agreed to do this for each other; I'm just keeping up my end of the bargain. Um… I do have one off topic question for you though."

"Sure, ask me anything."

"What did the Mellark kid want? I saw him leaving when I came in. He looked kind of shook up."

"To be honest, I have no idea what he wanted. He spent half the time stammering trying to tell me something and then- well, it was just really, really awkward."

"What did he do?"

I guess there's no harm in telling Gale about our awkward hug. I don't think he'd care either way; we're not in a relationship beyond friends. I've never thought of him in a romantic way, until now. No, I'm not thinking of him like that, he's just a close friend, nothing more. "He just cried and hugged me and it-"

"He hugged you?"

"Yeah."

"He hugged you!"

"Yes."

"He-"

"Gale I think we already covered that he hugged me. Why do you care?" A strange thought crosses my mind. "You're not jealous, are you?"

"Actually, I kinda am." What? He's not supposed to say that. We're friends, just friends. Absolutely nothing more than friends. "It took me two years to get a hug out of you, and all he has to do is stammer and he gets one." I'm relieved by this, somewhat.

"Well, I didn't plan on hugging him, he just kinda threw himself on me." I hope he believes me. Wait no, I don't care if he believes me because we're just friends.

"Listen Katniss," He's leaning in closer, why is he leaning in closer? "I don't think I have much more time until the peacekeepers come. I just want to remember."

"Remember what?" I think I know what he's going to say, I really hope I'm wrong. He gives me a soft kiss on the lips. I kiss him back, mostly out of shock rather than passion. I knew where this conversation was going, but the kiss still caught me completely off guard.

"I love you." He whispers. I'm glad the peacekeepers come in to escort him out, because I have no idea how to respond.

* * *

><p>"Peeta, I was wondering if you were ever coming to say goodbye."<p>

"Sorry, there was something else I needed to do first."

"You went to see Katniss, didn't you?"

"Yeah," There's a short pause, then he continues "I'm an idiot Fare, a complete idiot. You're my brother, you should mean more to me than her, but, God, she's all I've been thinking about. And now I realize that I've been obsessing over her and I have a brother in the same boat. Why'd you do it, Fare? I could've handled myself."

"You sure about that?" I tease, "I mean, you can't even take me down in a simple wrestling match."

"Fare," He says, trying to suppress a laugh, "Seriously, why'd you do it?"

"Do you remember when you had those bullies that would tease you every single day? You tried to deal with it on your own for months, and it didn't work. Then one day I saw them teasing you and I told them if they didn't leave you alone, they'd have to answer to me? It's like that Peeta, you're my little brother, and it's just my instinct to protect you."

"Yeah, but Fare, I was nine when that happened. I've grown up since then."

"It doesn't matter if you're 9 and I'm 11 or you're 16 and I'm 18, I still want to keep you safe."

"Fare, will you promise me something?"

"Depends, if you want me to sacrifice myself for the girl, you're barking up the wrong tree."

"No I wouldn't ask you to do that. All I ask is that you don't hurt her."

"I don't think you'll have to worry about me hurting her. I'll probably die before I even get the chance."

"Fare, you might not think so, but you really could make it home. You're strong-"

"Yeah, and so are all the other careers."

"Let me finish. You're strong, but you're also smart. Not book smart like Brioche, that wouldn't help you anyway. You're clever and good at thinking on your feet. You're a strategist, you could probably come up with some big mastermind plot take everyone down. Those careers are strong, but they're hardly ever smart. They don't think before they act, like you do. Your wit is your biggest strength."

"Aww... Peeta, you're making me blush." I say sarcastically.

"I'm serious Fare, you really can win this."

"I bet you told Katniss the same thing, or were you to busy confessing your undying love to her?"

He sighs, "You're right about the undying love thing. I wanted to tell her, but I just stammered like an idiot and probably completely freaked her out, hence the 'I'm an idiot' thing earlier. But Fare, even if it might not seem like it, really I do want you to come home more than her. Blood is thicker than water right?"

"You know Peeta, it's probably a good thing you and Katniss never got together. Cuz if you did, she'd probably break your heart cheat on with you with that seam scum friend of hers, and then three months later come crying to you saying that you're her baby daddy when everyone knows it's not you."

"What is that supposed to mean? Cheat on me and- wait. Fare, is Lise pregnant? She was hysterical when I saw her leaving."

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"Fare, I don't know what Lise did or said to you, but whatever it was, just forget about it, the only thing that matters now is getting home. Please come home Fare."

"I'll try." This time, I sincerely mean it.

* * *

><p>I'm finding I like to write these chapters when I have something else I should be doing, like essays. Fortunately for you (and unfortunately for me : ) I have several more essays to write in the future, so expect somewhat frequent updates. I hope you like reading this as much as I like writing it.

Oh and btw, Grandpa Roarke is Mrs. Mellark's father (now you know where the bitter came from, it's genetic!)


	3. Chapter 3

I've been working on this chapter most of this week, but wrote the majority of it in tonight. I hope it doesn't seem rushed. First POV is Katniss then Fare.

I don't own the Hunger Games, just in case you weren't already aware of that.

* * *

><p>"What did you think of the tributes last night?" I ask Farina, sitting across the table from me. I'm not sure if I should talk to him, we will be trying to kill each other in a week after all, but I'm feeling strangely lonely. I haven't said a word to anyone since I left the Justice Building yesterday. When my only other choices for conversation are Effie and Haymitch, Farina seems the most normal, maybe we could be allies or something.<p>

"Well, the girls from 1, 4, and 9 are really hot. 2 and 5 weren't bad but-"

"Wait, did you seriously just spend the entire recap ogling the girls?"

"Yeah," he says like there's nothing wrong with it at all, "Don't you do the same thing with the guys?"

"Uh.. no." OK, maybe Farina isn't all that normal. I'm not really sure I wanted an ally anyway, they never seem to work out. I don't know who I should talk to now though. I suppose Haymitch is my best bet. The servants aren't that talkative, and I don't think I could stand a conversation with Effie.

"So… you're my mentor."

"Yessssh." He slurs. I think he's the first person I've met to be drunk before 9 in the morning. It's repulsive. I can't believe that _this_ is the guy who's going to help me survive in the arena. How is he supposed to help me when he's passed out drunk?

"Uh… don't you think you should take it easy on the alcohol?"

"*hic* Why would I do that?"

"I don't know, so you can help us survive. Teach us something, give us advice, make District 12 look good for a change."

"You *hic* want advice? Here'ss shum advice. Sshtay. Alive." He then belches loudly and attempts to take another swig from his glass. I knock it out of his way before he can. "My drink." He whines pathetically.

"No. No more drinking for you. I don't know if know it, or even if you care, but in a week I am going to be fighting for my life. I want a shot at coming home, and it's not fair that you can just waste yourself away and I-"

"Katniss just let the man have his drink," Farina interrupts, "It's not like we'd have much more of a chance of winning with him sober."

"That's a terrible attitude to have!"

"But it's the truth and the truth ain't always pretty."

"Shut up, bofff of you," Haymitch shouts, then turns to Farina asks "What'sss your *hic* name again boy?"

"Farina Mellark"

"The baker'sss sshon. I *hic* hope for your sshake you're tuffer than him."

"Much tougher."

He gives a drunken cackle "I like you kid. And you." He turns my way. What's he going to say to me, hope you're more emotionally stable than your mom? I already know the answer to that one.

He actually slaps me across my face, hard. "Don't efffer interrupt *hic* my drinking again." I stand there dumbstruck by what just happened.

"Haymitch!" Effie yells, you can sense some irritation in her voice. "This is not acceptable behavior from a mentor, you should know better! Katniss, come with me, I want to make sure Haymitch didn't leave a mark that'll show for the chariots tonight."

"She ssshtarted it." He chortles, not looking the least bit sorry. Effie mumbles some obscenities under her breath as she escorts me out of the room.

* * *

><p>Everything I ever knew about preparation for the Hunger Games is wrong. Getting cleaned up for the reapings is nothing compared to the Remake Room. I never knew it could take hours to get ready to get prepped for the chariot rides. I've been doused in lotions and perfumes ("Cologne," the prep team keeps telling me, "much more manly than perfume." I can't sense a difference). They put some goop in my hair that smelled terrible but was supposed to "bring out my natural blonde highlights." I can't see a difference. The prep team insisted on bathing me and shaving my face themselves, even though I am more than capable of doing both. Now they are painfully ripping out my eyebrows, one hair at a time.<p>

"Oww!"

"Oh, come on it's not that painful."

"How are you ever going to survive the games if you can't even survive a simple eyebrow tweezing?"

"I don't ever remember a Hunger Games where a tribute died of eyebrow torture." I say sarcastically.

"I don't know how he'll survive the Games with that kind of attitude."

"I'll be sure to tell all my friends not to bet on you."

"Good plan, I don't think I'm going to win either."

"Such a rude tribute we have this year."

"Portia will see you in a minute, we are through with you." And with a huff, they leave. District 12 has two stylists. One has a giant horn sticking out of his forehead and has been around for as long as I can remember, and the other is constantly being replaced, I think for the past few years it's been a lady with purple hair. I'm hoping my stylist is the purple haired lady. She seems like she would be more sane than the horned man.

The stylist that walks in is neither of these people, or is she? She bares a resemblance to the purple haired lady, same light brown skin, same dark brown eyes, same ridiculously hot body, but her hair is dark brown, almost black. For a Capitol citizen, she looks rather normal, although she has very long nails that seem to be painted a sparkly blue color.

"Hello, Farina."

"Call me Fare."

"Well, Hello then Fare. I'm Portia, your stylist."

"Pleasure to meet you, Portia. Random question, did you have purple hair last year?"

She chuckles "So you recognize me. It was violet actually, though I doubt you could tell the difference. I got sick of dying it, so I decided to keep my natural color."

"You were hard to miss, with that purple hair and hot body."

She smirks, "Hot body, huh. Do I have a flirt this year?"

"Maybe you do."

"Hmmm… I could get in trouble for getting involved with a tribute like you."

"I'm eighteen, it's legal."

"I also don't think my boyfriend would like it"

"Doesn't mean I can't try. Either way, your natural hair looks better than that nasty shade of purple, or a giant horn sticking out of your head."

"Giant horn? What- oh, you must mean Ceros."

"That's the other stylist, right?"

"Correction, the old stylist. He retired this year, thank goodness for that. He's older than President Snow and had been working for the games longer than Caesar Flickerman."

"He didn't look that old."

"That is the miracle of plastic surgery. He's had more surgeries than anyone I've ever met. How do you think he got that stupid Narwhal horn?"

"What the hell is a Narwhal?"

"I honestly don't know. Ceros was obsessed with them. They lived thousands of years ago and apparently had enormous horns."

"That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

"Ridiculous doesn't even begin to explain Ceros. I am so glad he's gone. He was so traditional with his fashion choices, not willing to experiment at all. Every time I even suggested we use something besides a skimpy coalminer outfit for the chariot rides, he'd shoot me down, rather rudely."

"I'm guessing this year's chariot rides won't be a skimpy coalminer outfit?"

"Far from it. Cinna and I have been working on something spectacular. I'm not supposed to show you your outfit just yet, but right now I'm really tempted to. Oh, what the heck, you want to see your outfit?"

"Sure." She runs out to get the outfit and comes back holding a black, orange, and yellow mass.

"What do you think?" She asks gleefully. She must be really proud of it. I don't really get fashion, but to me it just looks like a fiery looking cape and a simple black leotard thingy. It's better than a skimpy coalminer outfit. The cape looks kind of cool but I'm somewhat wary of the leotard. I can't help but wonder.

"Exactly how err… tight is this outfit?"

"It's should be skin tight, why?" I don't think she quite understands what I'm getting at.

"Let me rephrase the question," I motion towards my crotch and ask. "Will all of Panem be able to see my junk?"

"Oh… no. Cinna designed your unitard in mind of umm… certain male parts, but I wouldn't worry about that much. Panem's eyes won't be down there. I haven't even mentioned the best part yet."

"What's the best part?"

"I'm going to light it on fire."

-o-o-o-o-

If I ever make it back home, Peeta owes me big time.

"I can't believe I agreed to do this." I mumble to Katniss as we wait for District 12's turn to go. I'm going to have to get used to this waiting thing, District 12 goes last for everything.

"We didn't, remember?"

"We both volunteered, that's practically the same as agreeing. This is what we get for being overprotective older siblings, public humiliation, and third degree burns."

"It could be worse, you know. Remember the year our tributes wore nothing but coal dust?"

I shudder at that thought of going through this naked. "And I was worried about Panem ogling my junk in this getup."

I think my comment makes her blush, "Um… I think we're moving." As she says it our chariot starts to move.

"Ready to fool Panem with our fake cheer and try not to burn to death?"

"Oh absolutely!" She says with a huge, forced smile, "I love smiling and waving." I pick up on the sarcasm. Portia and Cinna come down to light our costumes.

"So what do you think Portia, am I hot?"

"Extremely," she rolls her eyes, "Just smile, you lady killer." I watch as she leaves and notice Cinna shouting something to us, but I can't make it out.

"What's Cinna saying?" I ask Katniss.

"I think, he wants us to hold hands."

"And that," I reply, "is where I draw the line. I can only handle so much fake cheer. Let's pretend we didn't hear him."

"Fine by me." We roll in to a huge applause. I look up at one of the huge TV and see me with the outfit on fire.

Damn, I look good. Impressing the Capitol is going to be easier than I thought.

* * *

><p>Oh, Fare, you ladies man you. I'm really starting to like Fare, I hope you guys are too.<p>

I hope I did ok with Haymitch's drunkenness. I'm not exactly sure what a drunk person sounds like, so I hope I did it right. I also didn't know what Portia looked like, so I modeled her after Latarsha Rose (AKA the person playing Portia in the movie) Anyone else super excited for the movie like me? Vanity Fair just released some pictures of the cast, and they look amazing!

I hope you don't think I'm too much of a perverted person for mentioning Fare's junk as much as I did. I kind of wondered if that would have been a problem with Peeta. I mean, the chariot outfit is a tight fitting unitard. I know from some experience that men have some issues with wearing this.

Review if you think Narwhals are awesome! :)


	4. Chapter 4

Hey all, I hope the wait for chapter four wasn't too long. I hope you don't mind I kind of skipped most of training. I'm just really eager to get to the games. Besides, training's kind of boring anyways. Just a little note, the last portions in Katniss POV. I think I made the switch fairly obvious, but I don't want anyone to get confused.

* * *

><p>I have five minutes until my private session with the gamemakers, and I still have absolutely no idea what I'm going to do. I didn't even want to come to these stupid training sessions, it's not like I can learn everything I need to know to survive in the jungledesert/tundra/whatever the hell the arena's going to be like in a matter of three days. Effie literally had to drag me out of bed to get me to come. Well, actually a couple of avoxes did the dragging. Effie isn't exactly a manual labor person, but either way, I wasn't there by choice. I tried to learn how to use some weapons. If the fighting was all hand-to-hand, I'd probably dominate, but it's not, so I figured it might be good to know how to throw a spear or effectively swing an axe. To put it nicely, I sucked at every single weapon that I could get my hands on, so I'm not going to try that. I tried some survival skills, but all I really got out of that is fires can be started with tree bark, and gooseberries are edible, neither is a skill I can really show off to the gamemakers. Yesterday, I stole one of the practice mats and took a nap in a closet. If only napping were a survival skill.

Maybe I'll lift some weights, show them how strong I am, or I could beat up one of the sparring dummies. All I know is I have to do something besides wander around from station to station like an idiot trying to figure out which one will get me a decent score.

"Farina Mellark, you may proceed." Guess I'll have to wing it.

-o-o-o-

"I shot an arrow at the gamemakers." She whines, as though this one tiny screw up singlehandedly caused her life to be over. I suppose I can kind of see her angle, but God, she takes this stuff so seriously. Has anyone ever told her she needs to lighten up?

They all look at her in shock and disbelief, like her killing a gamemaker is the worst thing a person could possibly do. OK, maybe it is, but wasn't the point of meeting with the gamemakers to prove that you're a vicious killer?

"You know, shooting down the gamemakers won't stop the games from happening. Nice try though, I applaud the effort."

"Shut up Fare. What did you do for the gamemakers, flirt with them?"

"No. My heart belongs to Portia." I get a friendly scoff and eye roll from Portia, "Besides, most of them are men, and I don't roll that way."

"Well, I'm sure whatever you did, it didn't put your family in danger."

"Katniss, do you seriously think that your family is in danger because you tried to kill the gamemakers."

"Yes I am!" She shouts, "And I didn't try to kill them."

"Pity you didn't. Trying to kill them is probably the best thing you could have done. It shows that you aren't just prepared to shoot down dummies, you're willing, and able, to do it on the real thing."

"Quiet you two." Haymitch shouts at us, "The scores are coming on."

The scores start out the way they normally do. The careers scored high, all of them either have an 8, 9, 10. And for the most part, everyone else scores 6 or below. There are a few surprises towards the end, the cripple boy from ten got a 6, which is higher than I thought he'd get. The tiny girl from 11 scores a 7, her huge District partner scores a 9. Then my picture comes up, it's not a bad picture of me either. The number 8 appears underneath it. 8? Better than I could have hoped for, I did better than that tiny girl from 11 and tied with some of the careers. Finally we see what Katniss scored. Everyone in the room seems to be holding their breath, except me of course, because I really don't care.

They all cheer when she gets an eleven. They were worried over nothing. I told them not to worry, though I never really expected them to listen to me.

"What'd I tell you?" I say vindictively, "They like people who can kill."

She looks at me with narrowed eyes "I am not a killer."

"You will be soon."

-o-o-o-

"Oh, come on Fare, it's not that bad."

"Are you kidding me, it looks awful. I thought we had something Portia, then you have to go and, and, and."

"Cut you hair?" I was told I was getting 'just a trim, ya know, get rid of some of those split ends.' Now, my once shoulder length hair now barely brushes my ears.

"Yeah. How could you Portia, how could you?"

"Fare, I knew you can be a bit," She pauses, searching for the right word, "over the top, at times, but really, it's only hair. Besides, now everyone can see those beautiful blue eyes you have."

"I look like Brioshe with my hair this short."

"You looked like Haymitch with it long. I don't think bitter old drunk is the angle you were going for."

"But pompous smartass wasn't the angle I was going for either."

"You don't look like a pompous smartass, you look like a strong, handsome, eighteen year-old whose going to impress Panem during his interview tonight."

"I could have done that I could have done that with my long hair."

"Well, admittedly, the prep team did go a bit shorter than I intended them to, but that's what you get for being so mean to them. Don't worry about it Fare, you look fine. There's nothing to be nervous about."

"Who said anything about being nervous?"

"No one, but I can tell. All this frustration can't seriously be coming solely from a so called bad haircut. It's ok to be nervous, I'd be if I were you, I hate public speaking."

"I'm not nervous." I say flatly, I don't want her to think I sound defensive. I'm really not nervous, at least not for the reasons Portia thinks I am. I don't care what everyone in Panem thinks about what I'm going to say, and I've practiced my answers enough to know them by heart. I know all the right words to make the entirety of Panem fall for me. Everyone except one person, and her unseen reaction is what makes me nervous.

"Any advice?"

"Smile, and not that fake smiling crap you gave at the chariot rides."

"Was it that obvious?"

"You fooled most of the Capitol, but not me. Now get out of here, you have an interview to do."

I hop on one of the fancy elevators and make my way down to the stage. Portia spent a little longer than she intended on me (stupid prep team messing up my hair!) the stage hands are mad at me because "We go live in 2 minutes!" and I'm rushed to my spot all the way at the end of the stage.

One of the "perks" of being the male from District 12 is I get to go last. It's actually a good thing to be last, now that I think about it. They'll be more likely to remember me, too bad for the middle Districts, nobody remembers them. But since I'm last, all I really have to do until my turn is not fall asleep during everyone else's interviews, which is harder than it sounds. I pay attention to the first interview, only because the girl, Glimmer, looks really hot. After that, there's really nothing to see, except maybe the girls from 4 and 9, and it takes all my will power not to nod off.

"And that was the lovely Katniss Everdeen!" Caesar booms. "Now let's welcome Farina Mellark to the stage." They clap with slightly less enthusiasm as they did at the beginning of the show. I guess they're getting tired.

"Good luck." Katniss whispers to me as she returns to her seat, not sure why though, we're hardly friends.

"So, Farina."

"Please Caesar, call me Fare."

"Well then Fare, how have you been enjoying your stay in the Capitol?"

"I'll be honest Caesar, it's taking some getting used to. Yesterday, I sat down on what I thought was a chair. I swear, it looked exactly like the chairs in my dining rooms here, and Effie, my escort, yelled at me because I just sat on a priceless piece of art. Back in District 12, we can't sit on our art either, but that's because it's hanging on our walls, not sitting in the middle of a room looking exactly like a chair."

"Those art pieces can be tricky can't they, huh. I've seen some bizarre things myself. Speaking of works of art, I noticed you tamed that mane of yours."

"Well thank you Caesar, my is a work of art, it's worth way more than some crummy chair statue thing. Don't you think?"

"Absolutely, so was it your idea to cut it?"

"No, it was all Portia, my stylist, and I'd bet anything that it was my mom who told her to." I shout toward the camera, "I finally got a haircut mom, are you happy now?" The audience is roaring with laughter, I've got them in the palm of my hand, just where I want them.

"Got anything else to say to the folks back home?"

"Just a few, now that I think of it. Eames, yes, people actually dress like your mom in the Capitol. Peeta, you better not touch any of the stuff on my side of the room. Dad, I tried the bread here, and it's not half as good as what you made, for those of you who don't know I come from a family of bakers. And lastly, Lise, I love you, and I'm sorry I won't be there for you, to watch our child grow up." Yup, I just dropped my bombshell. The audience collectively gasps, some of them start crying. I think I even caught Caesar off guard.

"You're a father?"

"Not yet, my girlfriend told me she was pregnant a week ago, right after I volunteered for my brother. She was planning to surprise me with the news that night. We had a big date planned for after the reapings, but things changed, and now I'm here, ready to fight so all three of us can be reunited."

"Would you have volunteered if you knew?"

"I- I don't even want to think about that. I can't choose between my family."

There's a hanging silence, I don't think the crowd has ever been so quiet. Caesar breaks it, "Well, I wouldn't count you out of the running just yet, you look fit, and you scored an 8 in training." He directs his attention towards the audience "What do you guys think, can Fare win?" It's the loudest the audience has cheered tonight.

"Thanks for being so reassuring everyone, it means the world to me." I say over the noise.

"I think our time is about up, that's Fare Mellark everyone."

I don't get Fare, I really don't. He's been a complete flirt this whole week, then he says, on national television, that he has a steady, pregnant girlfriend. Five minutes ago he teared up as he told the world about this steady, pregnant girlfriend, now he's whistling along to the elevator music like he doesn't have a care in the world.

"Why are you so happy?" I ask as we step out of the elevator and onto our floor.

"Because my interview went exactly as I wanted it to."

"How do you mean?"

"Everyone in Panem thinks I'm a determined father, ready to fight to be able to hold my little kid in my arms."

"Well you are, aren't you?"

"I suppose you could say that." He says with a smirk. I'm not getting this, he being so subtle, like he's hiding something.

"Fare, did you lie about your pregnant girlfriend, to get sympathy from the crowd?"

"It's not really lying, more like embellishing the truth. Lise isn't my girlfriend, she's my ex, and she's pregnant alright, but the baby isn't mine."

"So you did lie to get sympathy. That's really low Fare."

"I told you, I didn't really lie"

"Yes you did."

"OK, I told a few white lies, so what? I'm just doing whatever it takes to get sponsors, I'm sure some of the other tributes beefed up their sob stories for the same reason as me."

"That doesn't make it right. They're gonna find out you lied."

"No they're not. I know I lied, and you know I lied, and I'm sure Lise is at home screaming at me through her TV right now because of it, but those capitol goons, they don't know a thing about me. I could've told them that she's my wife and we also have twins back at home and they'd believe me. You could have said you were pregnant and they would have believed it"

"I would never lie about being pregnant, or anything else for that matter. And what about the final eight interview Fare? They'll want to interview Lise and she'll tell everyone that you lied about her."

"They won't interview Lise."

"She'll be the first one they go to."

"No, they won't interview her becase I'll be dead before they get to the final eight."

"You- irritate me."

"I'm glad. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to go to bed, you should too. It's going to be a big, big day!" He mimics Effie with a spot on Capitol accent, and shuts the door to his bedroom.

"I hope you're happy with yourself!" I shout, louder than I probably should have, but I'm not sure he can hear me through the walls. I don't bother waiting for a response before making my way down the hall to my own room. As I shut the door, I realize that our argument, as well as every other conversation I've had with Fare is pointless, because tomorrow we both face almost certain death.

* * *

><p>And Fare's baby drama continues. I think I'll die down on that drama when the games start, just in case you're getting sick of it. But there'll still be drama, and action, and suspense, and all sorts of other stuff in the next chapter. Get pumped for the 74th Annual Hunger Games. Coming... whenever I get around to writing the next chapter, which will hopefully be soon.<p>

"I would never lie about being pregnant." oh yes you would Katniss. I hope you all caught the reference ;)


	5. Chapter 5

Yay, the games are going to start. I think you'll see right away, these games are not going to be the same as the one in the book. Also just a small heads up, this chapter is a little graphic, especially towards the end. I don't think it's anything too bad, but I figured I'd warn you anyway.

* * *

><p>"I'm gonna get you." The blonde shouts at me menacingly. She throws her daggers with incredible accuracy; I can hear them as they whiz by inches from my ears. It's only a matter of time until one of them hits me. I'm running as fast as I can, hoping if I can keep going long enough, I'll wear her out. She doesn't seem to be getting tired, and her supply of knives appears endless.<p>

A tree root trips me up, and I fall hard to the ground. It feels like I landed on fly paper, I can't move. My brain shouts _GET UP! _but my body won't respond. In no time at all she knocks me to the ground. Her body pins me to the ground while her right holds a dagger high in the air. "Say goodnight." she whispers and sinks the dagger into my chest.

At this I wake up from my nightmare, panting and covered in a cold sweat. Of course it's going to be the night I really need a full eight hours rest that I can't sleep soundly.

It was midnight when I get back to my room from the interviews. I was exhausted, and that's probably why I fell asleep the second my head hits the pillow. I only manage to get a few hours of sleep in, before I'm awoken by nightmares. I spend another hour tossing and turning before giving up on going back to sleep.

I don't normally watch TV, only when required Capitol programming is on and sometimes when I'm sick. I have nothing to do, except think about how I'm going to die, and I'd much rather see what's so great about television.

I nearly drop the remote when I see my face on the screen. I'm not sure why I'm so shocked, it's not the first time I've been on TV, I am competing in the Hunger Games, which will be broadcast live for all Panem to see. This isn't required Capitol programming though, it's some celebrity gossip show. My mother would occasionally watch them, but I never paid much attention. I guess, even though I'm sure everybody in Panem knows my name, I never thought of myself a full-fledged celebrity.

"Why did they cut his hair? He looked so much better with long hair than short, what I would have given to see him flip his hair. Ooh, gives me chills just thinking about it."

"I don't know Mauritzia, the short makes him look more mature. When I saw him at the interviews last night, I thought, there's no way this kid is 18, he has to be at least twenty."

"It doesn't matter how long or short his hair is, he's a major hunk either way. That Lise girl is lucky to get a piece of him. If he wins this he could be the next Finnick Odair."

I'm going to be fighting for my life today. I'll probably die brutally by the hands of a Career. In just a few hours they'll have nothing to talk about except a corpse. With all of this shit that's about to go down, it makes me sick that all they want to discuss is if my hair looks better long or short.

I flip the channel to an overweight, blue-haired chef, and watch him as he makes bread. For the first time, I feel homesick.

-o-o-o-o-

"Fare," Portia calls, "it's time to go." There's a sinking feeling in my stomach as we head up to the roof. I'm going to be airlifted to my launch room. I always thought it would be cool to ride on a hovercraft, but under the circumstances I doubt I'm going to enjoy it.

"Good luck kid." Haymitch says and pats my shoulder. This is probably the last time I'll see him, and the first time I've seen him sober.

"Any final words of advice?" I ask.

"Yeah, don't stick around to fight at the cornucopia, get out of there as quick as you can and find some water."

"I'll do my best."

"And one other thing, before you go." he shouts, trying to be heard over the incoming hovercraft.

"Yeah?"

"Stay alive."

"I can't make any promises." I grab hold of the ladder put out by the hovercraft, and am lifted into the air. Haymitch isn't coming with; he's going out to find sponsors. They lift up Portia though, after I'm injected with a tracking device. We eat breakfast onboard the hovercraft. I force myself not to overeat, I can't run as fast when I feel full and bloated.

"You think they'd notice if I snuck a few rolls in?" This was intended to be a joke, but I get several glares from some of the guards on board, and the rest of the meal is silent.

After we land I dress into my arena outfit, and wait in the launch room until it's time to go.

"Does everything fit ok?" Portia asks once I have my entire outfit on.

"Yeah, fits like a glove. Tell me though, does this jacket make me look fat?"

She laughs "No."

"How about intimidating, do I look scary?"

"Yes."

"Are you just saying that, or do I really look scary?"

"Even without the jacket, you are the scariest Tribute I have ever seen."

"OK now I know you're messing with me."

"Maybe you're not the scariest tribute I've seen, but you look strong, and determined."

"I suppose it doesn't really matter what I look like, I'm gonna die either way."

"Fare, you don't know that. You really do have a chance. Trust me, you're underestimating yourself."

We sit in silence for a few more minute until a voice tells us to prepare for launch.

"I guess this is it." I step onto the metal plate that will take me up to the arena, "It was nice meeting you, Portia."

"Same to you Fare, and I plan on seeing you again soon. Alive."

"Can I get a good luck kiss?"

She gives me a hug instead, "When you win, you'll get your kiss. Good luck out there."

"Thanks." then a glass cylinder descends on me and I'm lifted up to the arena. Once I reach the top I hear the voice of Claudius Templesmith announcing the game's beginning. I'm sure somewhere in the Capitol, there are cheers and screaming fans, but these next 60 seconds in here are dead quiet.

I think about running now. The plate would explode and it would be a quick, easy, and hopefully painless death. It sounds extremely appealing, but I can't bring myself to do it. I've been saying it all week "I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die. Oh people of Panem, pity me because I'm gonna die." Now that I'm here, the words' meaning hit me, and I realize I'm not as ready to die as I thought I was. Maybe it's survival instincts, maybe it's fear dying, or maybe I really want that kiss from Portia, I can't kill myself. I have to fight.

The gong sounds, alerting us that we can now move without fear of being blown to bits. I don't move though, I just stand still and watch it all unfold. Everyone's too caught up in the action to notice me standing still. Most of them rush forward towards the golden horn full of supplies. Some of the less courageous scour the ground for smaller trinkets, and then rush off for the cover of the forest. Katniss makes a beeline for the cornucopia, my guess is she wants the bow and arrows gleaming at the top of the pile. The Careers plow through the crowd, literally stepping on anyone in their way. Already, I see blood on the ground, and hear screams from the wounded, I wonder how many are dead.

"You know the gong went off already, right?" the little girl from 11 asks me, somewhat cautiously. She wasn't one of the ones I saw rushing forward, instead she ran the other way.

"Yeah, I just haven't decided yet."

"Decided what?" She inches further away. I can't blame her for not trusting me. I'm a huge guy, she's a little girl. I could end her life right now, put my hands around her neck and strangle her, beat her to a bloody pulp, snap her neck like it's a twig. I could kill her, easily, if I wanted to.

"If I want to go to the field or the forest." At this, she gives me a funny look, and runs off.

A small flashlight brushes against my feet. I pick it up, and then turn my back to the cornucopia. I start walking away, and slowly pick up speed until I'm at a full on sprint. I keep running until I'm practically swimming in tall grass. I didn't intend to go to the field, I actually wanted to run to the cover of the forest. Familiarity is what drew me here. The field's grass is wheat, the same kind we'd use at home to make flour.

Flour, I miss being covered in the stuff.

* * *

><p>I almost faint at the sight of the blood trail I've left. I knew I'd been hit, I saw the boy throw the knife at me, I felt it jab the front of my leg, but I had no idea the damage was this extensive. I don't even know how I even managed to walk, let alone run, this far while losing so much blood. The bottom of my pant leg and shoe are soaked with the sticky red liquid. When I roll up my pants to inspect the wound, I almost faint again when I see a small chunk of flesh missing, and some of the bone exposed.<p>

A trail of blood is dangerous. Someone could follow it and find me, and in the state I'm in, I couldn't defend myself. I manage to climb a tree, that'll give me some coverage, and inspect the backpack I nabbed at the cornucopia. I only intended to take the bow, but I managed to grab a backpack and a sleeping bag before I was hit with the knife, and ran off.

_"Please let there a first aid kit. Please let there a first aid kit. Please let there a first aid kit." _There's some dried fruit, crackers, matches, a pair of rain boots, a half full canteen, a switchblade, and a roll of toilet paper, the super absorbent kind found in the bathrooms of the Capitol.

I get the bleeding to stop, but it takes the entire roll.

I decide to spend the rest of the night up in the tree. I don't want move around much, because my leg might start bleeding again. Tomorrow, I'll go hunting, but tonight, I'm going to rest. Today has been exhausting, and I just barely manage to stay awake for the death recap. Eleven tributes died today. Fare was not one of them.


	6. Chapter 6

I am so sorry for the months of delay, I've just been busy. And I'm sorry this chapter is so short, I promise the next one will be longer.

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><p>I used to wonder where the Hunger Games got their name from. There were so many other names the Capitol could have given it that made them, Survival Contest, or The Games Gore and Death, or something else scary and intimidating. Now, after a day of eating nothing but a few blades of grass, I think I know what made them go with the hunger games. I'm starving, literally. I knew I would die in the games, but I didn't think it would be of starvation.<p>

I almost regret not getting myself killed when I could, I probably could have saved myself from a long, drawn out death. It absolutely sucks to be out in a field with nothing but a flashlight. It took me forever to fall asleep last night because the ground was cold and hard, and every time I got close to sleeping, I would hear a noise and jolt up, paranoid that something was lurking around about to kill me. When I woke up in the morning (or maybe it was the afternoon. I should have paid more attention to the guy who taught me to tell time by the sun.) the temperature must have risen at least sixty degrees and I was covered in an uncomfortable layer of sweat. I spent the day meandering around the field, trying to find food and water. I must have been going in circles, because neither the forest nor the lake seemed to be getting any closer. I think I got a sunburn on my arms and neck, but that was the least of my worries. I was quickly becoming dehydrated, and succumbing to heat exhaustion. My pace slowing down, and sometimes I had to stop walking altogether and lie down because I thought I might faint. I felt nauseous, even though I hadn't eaten anything since yesterday, but still the hunger pangs were unbearable.

The sun is starting to set when I finally reach the edge of the field. Before I know it the tall grass is gone and I'm ankle deep in mud. The field leads right into a swamp. I stumble over to a pond and collapse at its bank. I take a quick test of the water to make sure it's freshwater and not saltwater. When I deem it safe to drink, I can't help but guzzle down as much of it as my body can hold. Never in my life have I been so happy to have water, and when I finally can't drink anymore, I lie face down in the mud, unwilling to move. I close my eyes, but I don't fall asleep. I just relax, and try to gain some of my strength back.

"Are you sure that water's safe to drink? "Says a deep voice above me. I cock my head up a bit and see that huge black boy from 11 staring me down. I thought everyone went into the forest, at least I thought everyone who posed a threat went into the forest. I guess I thought wrong.

"Why, do you know something I don't?" I sneer back at him.

"I wouldn't put it past the gamemakers to contaminate the water." He responds. I can't tell by his tone if he's just making a statement, or if this is some kind of threat.

"Well, if I don't drink it, I'll slowly die of thirst, so I think I'll take my chances." I say back, because it's the truth. I wonder what he's been drinking if it wasn't water from this pond?

"Suit yourself then." He says and walks away. I'm left dumbstruck. I'm lying here dehydrated, starving, and defenseless. I was completely at his mercy, he could have killed me right here right now, and all he did was tell me the water might not be safe to drink. I'm glad he didn't kill me, but I wish I knew why.

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><p>As I lie in a sturdy oak tree and watch the face of the dead illuminate the sky (there only one death today, the girl from District 8), I can't help but think, surviving the Games hasn't been that much of a challenge. It's almost like hunting with Gale, except Gale isn't here, and my leg is injured, and I don't have to go home when it gets dark. Today I shot a few squirrels and a rabbit, found a stream to get water, scavenged a few berries that I know are edible, and haven't run into any other tributes since yesterday. Even my leg is feeling better. Though it still hurts like hell, the bleeding has completely stopped, and it doesn't appear to be infected. Things are going my way, and for once the odds seem to be in my favor.<p>

But all of this good fortune isn't making me feel better, instead it's putting me on edge. Things never stay quiet for very long during the Games. I have a sinking feeling that something bad is going to happen soon.

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><p>It's dark once I finally decide to get up from the mud to look for food. I make use of my flashlight to find something to eat. There were a few bushes around the water, maybe they have some berries. I shine my light around until it finds a bush. I go over to inspect it and find it has no berries. I do the same thing for a few more minutes until I'm forced to conclude there are no berries in the bushes. I try a few reeds sticking out of the water, but they taste worse than the grass in the field. I noticed while I looked for reeds in the water, the fish were attracted to my light. Fishing is easier than I thought, all I have to do is grab one while it's in the light, and soon enough, there's a pile of fish flopping around in my arms.<p>

"How are you catching all those fish?" It's the boy from 11 again. Maybe I shouldn't have waved my light around so much, it seems to be attracting some unwanted attention.

"I guess they like the light. Do you know anything about cooking fish?" I ask, not sure why I'm being friendly with this guy/

"In the Capitol, they fed us this stuff called sushi." He says.

"What's that?" I ask. I don't remember anything called sushi from the Capitol.

"Raw fish." He says,

"Eugh, sounds terrible." I say, sticking my tongue out.

"It wasn't bad actually." He states.

"Do you know how to make it?" I ask, curiously.

"Well for starters," he says, pulling out a knife from his pack, "you need to cut their heads off."

"Woah, hold up," I say, backing up slightly, "who says I'm going to let you help me? This is my catch, not yours."

"Well, you asked for suggestions. If you don't want my help, I'll go." He says, somewhat bitterly, and turns to go.

"Wait!" I call, and he turns around, "That knife isn't laced with poison is it?"

He chuckles "No, it's just an ordinary knife."

"Then do you wanna cut up some fish, and I'll try to figure out a way to cook them?" I ask.

"Sure." He says, and takes a few of the fish from my hands "I'm Thresh, by the way." He adds.

"Farina, but call me Fare." I say. I wasn't really planning on having any allies, but I think this just might work out.


End file.
